Batman 1. Prologue

The tower cascaded over the dark city. Through its domed windows at the top floor, workers would see the entirety of North Gotham before vision blurred beyond the Pioneer Bridge, designed by Cyrus Pinkney so many years ago. Right below the peak of the tower the white word glowed, stronger than any other artificial light and even the pale moon, it revolved around the building so that all would know the name: WAYNE. Before there was Gotham City there was Wayne, and it was ironic that the name had long since had the power of Gotham's earlier days. Ever since Thomas and Martha Wayne were shot, and their boy gave up the family entitlement, the beacon of hope that was the Wayne Family became forgotten.

Crime grew worse by the day, death tolls became exponentially greater, at least twenty thefts took place every day. Two families rose to power quickly, the Falcones and the Maronis. They were both forces to be reckoned with and any officer who tried to stop them died a horrible death. Eventually the great officers of Gotham gave up, and when Gillian B. Loeb was commissioned corruption tripled. Every part of the police force had more corruption than do gooders. With the powers of Loeb and Falcone united anyone living in Gotham was a victim once or twice a day. That was all about to change.

Not to far from Wayne Tower, in North Gotham, was The Bowery. Of all the dirty places in Gotham City, The Bowery was the worst. Home to many things including the Merchant's Bank of Gotham, the Cyrus Pinkney Museum, Gotham City Light and Power, and the famous Monarch Theatre, adjacent to the district Park Row where the Waynes were gunned down in Crime Alley. It was here in The Bowery that the first act to stop corruption took place.

Two lone men guarded the storage unit as two other men approached. All four had their faces hidden behind a ski mask and their chests covered by heavy jackets. Icy breath exited one of the guards' mouths as he spoke enthusiastically, "Gentlemen! Welcome!" He nodded over to his partner and the two lifted the door to the unit up, revealing a surplus of crates, each labeled; 'DANGER: Automatic Weapons Enclosed'. The guard looked back at the other two, "Shit load of automatics, as promised!" He smiled and walked into the unit, the others followed. "The Boss got these especially for The Roman, a sign of peace if you will."

The other two men looked at each other. "Peace?" One of them questioned, "You brought us out here, in the freezing cold, for us to send a message of peace to our boss?"

The first man continued to smile and pushed the lid off of one of the crates and lifted an automatic rifle out, allowing examination of the good quality. "Not exactly, you see, The Boss' train of thought was that if The Roman knew what arsenal we had, maybe he'd back the hell off." An arousement of anger occurred and the goon pointed the rifle at the two men, "Now you're going to leave, and tell Mr. Falcone what you saw here."

All of a sudden the man was on the floor, he was shaking as electricity from the taser in his chest repeatedly shocked him. Everything darkened as something destroyed the light inside. Screams and groans were fastly ended as three of them fell asleep, passed out from pain. One goon ran out of the storage place, away from the unknown threat, but didn't get far before bolas wrapped around his legs and he fell to the snow covered asphalt. He was turned over by his attacker and looked into its black eyes. In a stern voice, the figure looked at him, and ordered "You listen to me!"

The man looked at his attacker in desperate fear, "What are you?"

"I am the one who will cleanse this city of scum like you. I am the knight that will stop corruption and allow the children of this awful place grow and learn safely. I am the one that will not stop until people like you and your boss are put behind bars. Tell them what you saw tonight, and tell them that I am Batman." And with that the man went into a deep sleep, and the war to end evil in Gotham City had begun.


	2. Chapter 1: Finishing The First Night

Batman picked up the unconscious body out of the snow and threw him over his shoulder. He walked back into the storage unit and dropped the body. No one else would be able to see in this darkness, but he had trained for so long, learning to peak his other senses. Learning to know his surroundings within a pitch black environment. He, like a true nocturnal creature, had adapted to the darkness of the night.

He turned the first goon over and removed the taser cartridge from his chest, placing it in a metal pouch on his gray belt. He tied the men up with ease and he located his last tool underneath the shattered glass once belonging to the lightbulb in the unit. The tool was a batarang, a weapon of his own design. It was in the shape of a bat's silhouette and it was used like a traditional ninja star. Finally he walked out of the unit and shut the door.

He touched his right index and middle fingers to his cowl, he pressed on his ear and spoke in a slightly less stern tone, "Alfred, it's done." A old and happy voice with a British dialect responded, "Well done Master Wayne! I suppose you'll be wanting me to send that anonymous message then?" Batman walked down the alley, his fingers never leaving his ear, "Please do. Thank you Alfred." The old butler responded, "Of course sir. I trust you will be back within the hour?" Batman continued to walk and finished the conversation with, "Better make it two. I have one more thing I need to do."

He removed his fingers from the comlink and looked in front of him. The Monarch Theatre. Once a place of wonder, now put into ruin by the Falcones or perhaps the Maronis. Bruce Wayne had never cared for this place anyways. It was a memory of pain and loss to him. He was afraid, not anymore, but long ago, and it cost him his parents' lives. Never again would he let fear get to him. No one else would lose their loved ones because Bruce Wayne was afraid. Rather it was quite the contrary, he vowed that he would use the fear of others to save people. He would strike fear into criminals with the same image that created terror in him as a boy; bats. These foul creatures became his symbol, and they became his destiny.

It was a short walk, hidden in the shadows, to his next location. He crossed the border to Park Row and entered Crime Alley. Everyone in Gotham City knew why the name was coined, but only Bruce Wayne was alive to see the event that created it. He remembered when his parents were murdered on March 26, by a goon named Joe Chill. There were mixed theories as to why he did it; 'A common mugging', 'A hired hitman', 'A personal vendetta'. To Bruce Wayne this did not matter. Only one word ran through his head other than sorrow; justice.

And for a while, in his dark ten year old brain, he contemplated 'justice'. He wanted to kill Joe Chill. He wanted to end his miserable life like he ended the lives of his parents, two people who gave more to Gotham than anyone since Solomon Wayne and Cyrus Pinkney. It was two years later when the trial approached. Bruce wanted to kill him, but he did not have murder in his heart. Murder was not in the Wayne gene pool. During the trial at the Solomon Wayne Courthouse he and his trusty guardian Alfred Pennyworth watched as Joe Chill was sentenced to life in prison, and they also watched as Chill was shot in the gut and killed by an angered citizen. Bruce had longed to watch this man die, and now he was, but he wondered if the weight would have lifted if he had done it himself. Either way, justice was obtained.

Batman looked in the alley way, and he observed the blackening rose he had placed as Bruce Wayne earlier that morning. He visited their place of death most days since he had returned from his training around the world, but now it was time to move on. Visiting this place, beyond this night, would be a clue to his true identity. He would never forget Crime Alley, but he would also never return here again for this purpose. Bruce Wayne was handing his life over for the good of Gotham.

Later Bruce Wayne sat in his black rotating office chair. A large set of monitors sat in front of him, and a police scanner was to his left. Wayne Manor may be where Bruce grew up, but as Batman, this cave below it was his home. He had found the place shortly after he returned to the city while searching the mansion. With the help of Wayne Enterprises, unbeknownst to only the current CEO Lucius Fox, he designed the Batcave. Now a series of lights and catwalks, this was Batman's base of operations.

"Shouldn't you get at least some sleep sir?" Alfred asked as he approached from the secret elevator leading up to the mansion. "Sorry Alfred," Bruce replied. "I don't really sleep at night anymore." Alfred smiled at Bruce, he thought of how the young boy he helped to raise had grown, but did he necessarily like what he had grown into? "Perhaps a meal then." Bruce studied a monitor with a detailed map of North Gotham, "Sure Alfred." And with that the generous old man was back into the elevator and up to Wayne Manor.

Bruce looked at the map and wondered where his next move would be. It all came down to what the police did. He wished that he could observe the police at the crime scene, but that would be too risky. The last thing he needed was the police chasing after him. He wondered how Loeb's influence would damage his effectiveness. It didn't matter to him at the moment whether or not the goons were jailed, just that a message was delivered and received. Gillian Loeb would certainly have those men questioned by one of his high ranking goons, then he would inform Falcone that someone or perhaps something was coming. But Bruce would never attack Falcone Estate directly, that would be suicide, all he really had to do was get him out and into a cell. Then Loeb could do little to stop the courts from reaching their verdict. If there was one place in Gotham City without corruption it was the Solomon Wayne Courthouse.

A sound of gears turning and whirling began. Bruce was ready for something to eat, he had gone all day without food preparing for tonight. "Some pulled pork sir." Alfred placed the silver tray of food on the metal desk in front of Bruce and smiled. "Eat up Master Bruce, remember, you have a meeting with Mr. Fox tomorrow." Alfred began to walk back to the elevator once more. "I trust you shouldn't need me further sir. I'm off to bed." Bruce began to eat his meal as he pondered what Lucius Fox had for him this time. Hopefully some sort of transportation assistance. Walking in the shadows was not the most intimidating nor convenient way of getting around Gotham, nor was it very fast. Bruce knew he'd never sleep now as he contemplated amazing gadgets. Who knows, he thought, perhaps he may have a few ideas to show Lucius.


End file.

Batman, Crime, Drama